by Jane Charles
Grace couldn’t agree more. The village where she had grown up was no exception.
“I am relieved you will not abandon us at this time. Thank you.”
A small smile pulled at his lips. “It is my pleasure.”
As the tension from the incident with her father and the unexpected arrival of Vicar Trent eased from her and Grace began to relax. She poured herself a fresh cup of tea and decided to try and enjoy what was left of the afternoon. Perkins would sit with her father, but she knew he would sleep.
“I do have news.”
She perked up and looked to him.
“Brachton returned this afternoon.”
Grace thought her heart had stopped. She was supposed to have more time than this.
“Your uncle has an appointment to meet with him tomorrow, along with my brother.”
Matthew wished he did not have to deliver such news on the heels of her father’s episode or fit or whatever he just suffered from.
“But, I am not ready. Father will not be ready.” Tears sparkled in her eyes.
He reached over and squeezed her right hand in an offer of comfort. The warmth spread up his arm and his fingers tingled where they rested on her skin. What was he thinking? He should not be touching her in such a familiar manner and he drew back, trying not to jerk his hand away with too much force, but a mere touch had never affected him so strongly. “I plan on accompanying them.”
Her shoulders sagged with what he assumed was relief.
“I will not let them make any decisions without you and without a hearing. And, I certainly will not let them push for an early hearing. I will try and convince them to put it off for a day or two so your father will be recovered.’
“Thank you.” She looked up at him, eyes grateful. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Vicar Trent.”
Heat warmed his cheeks. “It is my pleasure.”
Miss Cooper looked down, silent and sipped from her cup. He wished he knew of some way to offer peace, but suspected she would have none until the hearing was over.
“Why the sudden interest from your uncle? As I understand it, your father’s accident was a few years ago?”
She startled and looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise. He didn’t mean to blurt out the question in such a rude manner, but it was something that weighed on his mind.
“I do not know. It isn’t as if he had anything to gain from my father being committed. The house and land is willed to me, as my dowry, for my husband to take over once I am married.” Miss Cooper shrugged. “The letters from Draker, Thorn and Richards must have been the encouragement for him to visit at this time.”
“A guardian would have almost as much control as a husband, if he could prove his actions were a benefit to the estate as a whole,” Matthew prompted.
“I suppose.” Miss Cooper sighed. “Don’t you think I am a bit old to have a guardian?”
“You are in a rather odd predicament.” Matthew picked up his cup and sipped. He did not want Miss Cooper to worry about the outcome of the hearing, but she also needed to think about what would become of her if her father was committed. “You get all of this,” he gestured to the house and land, “if your father were to pass away.”
Miss Grace narrowed her eyes, suddenly alert.
He was simply making an observation, not thinking of adding his name to the list of becoming leg shackled to her. “Which I hope does not happen for a long time,” Matthew was quick to assure her. “Yet, if your uncle wins, this is not yours, but goes to the guardian for your father and you.”
“Leaving me with nothing.” She sighed again. “Not that we have much now. The dairy barely makes enough to put food on the table.”
“It is still a working dairy?” Matthew couldn’t recall any servants or workers.
“Yes,” she chuckled. “Though not much of one.”
“Who does all the work?”
“I do.”
Surely she didn’t run the dairy and take care of the house and her father. It was too much for a gently bred woman such as Miss Cooper. She should have someone taking care of her, easing her life.
“I milk the cows and gather the eggs in the morning. Sometimes I hire a neighbor boy to make the deliveries, and sometimes I do it myself.”
“You must rise with the sun.”
“Earlier, actually.” She chuckled. “We sold half of the cows when I knew father wouldn’t recover and then little by little we had to let our servants go until only Perkins, father’s valet, remained.”
“I thought your father had been a solicitor, not a farmer.”
“He was,” she answered. “The dairy farm brought in extra income and he enjoyed being a gentleman farmer.” A gentle smile formed on her lips. “But we had others who did the work on the farm. I took over when we couldn’t afford to keep our employees any longer. I had to keep it operating because it is now the only income we have.”
Matthew remembered the first service she attended, rushing into the door late and then Mrs. Montgomery chastised her. He hadn’t understood then the importance of the cows and why they had delayed her. Even if he had, it was no reason for him to have been so rude to Miss Cooper. But one glimpse at her face that first day stirred something foreign in him and he still could not come to grips with what it was, other than he was drawn to her like he had never been to anyone else.
Miss Grace pushed her cup away. “I should have married.”
“That certainly would solve everything. In the event your uncle wins, you would be taken care of.”
“Instead, he may be my guardian, despite my age, and have control of me and what is mine.”
“I am afraid so.” Matthew sat back, crossed his legs and folded his arms across his chest. He would guess Miss Cooper to be around twenty, but did not want to be so rude as to ask her directly. If she were older, she could make the argument that she could take care of herself and her father, but he knew that no magistrate in his right mind would leave Miss Cooper to fend for herself, let alone be in charge of her father and the land at such a young age even though she had been doing exactly that for two years.
“Why haven’t you married?” It probably was none of his business, but he could not imagine why some gentleman didn’t make her his wife.
A small smile came to her lips. “Only three have shown interest, though none of them actually bothered to ask.”
“If they were to ask?” He held his breath and waited for her answer. Why did it bother him to think of Miss Cooper married to someone else?
“I foolishly wished to wait for love.”
He reached over and touched her hand again. “There is nothing foolish in wanting that. If more people married for those reasons society would be happier as a whole.”
“I couldn’t agree more. I can’t imagine what it is like in society, where matches are made without thought to emotion.”
Thank goodness he had been a third son and the same pressure had not been put upon him to marry and beget an heir. Of course, in time, had his father lived, no doubt the man would have been suggesting the perfect wife for his perfect vicar. He inwardly shuddered at the type of bride his father would have insisted upon; some sour-faced chit, pious and more suited to be a martyr than a loving wife. Clay was lucky to have remained a bachelor until he inherited the title and ended up with the right woman for him. Matthew knew in his gut, had his father still lived, Eleanor would not have been acceptable. Would Clay have gone against Father?
Matthew shook the thought from his mind. It didn’t matter. Clay was now settled and happier than he had ever been allowed to be while father still lived.
Miss Cooper stood and walked around the table. “I suppose I should give more thought to the three men who have asked and try and determine who would be best for my situation.”
The thought of Mr. Draker, Richards or Thorn being married to her did not sit well with him. As her husband, the man would have the right to touch her, hold her, kiss her and be allo
wed all the intimacies marriage afforded. His stomach tightened at the thought. He didn’t want anyone else kissing Miss Cooper.
“I will be back in a moment. I need to check on Father.”
Matthew nodded and watched her walk through the doors and into the parlor, the gentle sway of her muslin gown giving only a hint to the body it hid.
The vehemence of wanting her for himself washed over Matt. He barely knew her, yet he wanted nobody else to have her.
He stood quickly, his emotions unsettled at this new revelation, and tried to concentrate on the issue at hand. Matthew needed to think of what was best for Miss Cooper, not what he longed for or what his body desired.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. For years he had been able to ignore the natural urges of his body, keeping desire in check, knowing he could not taste of the fruit until he was wedded. It had been ten years since he had been with a woman. It had been so easy to put aside teachings of chastity, infidelity, and dangers of seduction when you are eighteen and for two full years he studied during the day and visited the stews of London at night. He and Jordan had a fine time back then. Until his father learned.
Visiting whores was perfectly acceptable for his older brother, but not for Matt. Not if he were to be a perfect vicar. With the threat of his allowance being cut off, and the last time his father had actually struck him, Matthew turned his focus on the Bible once again and tried not to think of pleasures of the flesh. It had been difficult at first, but easier over time. Yet, Miss Cooper heated his blood like no woman before. If he married her, he would no longer have to deny the one thing missing from his life.
Yet, it wasn’t fair to offer for her simply because he wished to bed her.
He turned away from the house and strode to the edge of the terrace. What was he thinking? He should not be wondering what it would be like to bed one of his parishioners, especially at a time like this when her life was in turmoil. She didn’t need some randy vicar pawing at her. She needed his shoulder to cry on, his support in the hearing, and nothing else.
Grace stepped back outside to find Vicar Trent had moved away from the table and was standing at the edge of the terrace. Was he going to leave? Her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t want him to go just yet. There was a comfort in his presence that she was not ready to relinquish.
She quickly chastised herself. Vicar Trent had other parishioners besides herself. She was sure many of them had concerns that affected them as deeply as hers and she should not monopolize his time.
“He is asleep, as I suspected. Perkins is sitting with him.”
Vicar Trent turned to look at her. A frown marred his brow. Was he upset with her again? Had she said something wrong?
He marched forward and grasped her upper arms gently. “Do not marry simply to save your father. You will never be happy in such an arrangement.”
What had come over him? “I will be happy if I know my father is cared for and living with me.”
“Will any of the men you mentioned allow you to be his caregiver?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but Vicar Trent rushed forward. “Richards would keep your father here, servants surrounding him, which is well and good, but you would only be allowed to visit on occasion.”
How did he know Mr. Richards’ plans? Had the two spoken of this?
“Thorn at least would bring your father to his house so you could continue your care, but how would your father be affected by no longer living in his comfortable surroundings?”
Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. Had Vicar Trent been listening that first day he came to call?
“Who knows what plans Draker has, but the way he speaks down to you, I doubt you would be allowed an opinion on what is best for your father.”
“You were listening that day?”
His cheeks developed a light pink hue. “I couldn’t help not to. Your father had his ear toward the window taking in every word spoken.”
“Oh dear, I didn’t want him to know. It is horrible the way people talk about him. I wouldn’t want Papa hurt.”
“You father wasn’t hurt.” Vicar Trent grasped her with a bit more force, but not hurting her. “He worries about you.”
“Papa shouldn’t worry about me. It is I who should care for him.”
Vicar Trent chuckled and shook his head. “A father will worry about his daughter until the day she is happily settled, and should.”
Grace took in a deep breath and sighed. “Did he wish for me to accept one of them?” Perhaps she should ask her father which would be the best choice. If he had a preference then she would accept that man’s suit.
“I don’t think so.”
Relief shot through her. Grace really didn’t want to be married to any of her three choices. None of them made her skin heat when they touched her, unlike Vicar Trent. None of them made her want to kiss their lips when their face was so close, as Vicar Trent’s was right now and only a breath away. None of them excited her, or made her long to be held and comforted, as she wished Vicar Trent would do right now.
Oh, she was surely wicked and wanton for wanting such from a vicar. It must be because of all the stress she was under. If everything were normal, surely she wouldn’t be having such inappropriate thoughts.
His eyes bore into hers. Could he read her mind? Heat stole into her cheeks. She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. His focus changed to her mouth.
And as quickly as Vicar Trent had grabbed her, he let go, took a step back and let out a breath.
“I will keep you informed of what I learn.” He nodded his head and strode for the door. Stopping, he looked back at her. “And try not to worry, Miss Cooper. Everything shall turn out as it should.”
With that he disappeared into her house. Grace collapsed into a nearby chair and brought her hand to her frantically beating heart. What had come over her? Surely he couldn’t have read her mind.
She closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair. What would it be like to kiss Vicar Trent? To feel his arms around her and be able to lay her head on his shoulder? To forget for just a short time or to simply allow him to take care of her and Father.
Her eyes popped open and she frantically glanced around to make sure she was alone. It was a fanciful dream, and probably a sinful one too. He was a man of God and young ladies should not lust after vicars. Heat stole into her cheeks, embarrassed by her impure thoughts, and she straightened.
Was that what she was doing? Lusting after him? Grace wasn’t entirely sure what lust was, but if wanting to be held, kissed, touched, and to feel the warmth and tingling experienced from his touch was lust, then that is what she was doing.
Oh, she was a wicked girl, especially since he gave no indication he saw her more than another parishioner. She should be ashamed of herself. And would be, if she could make herself stop wishing he would come back and kiss her.
Grace blew out a breath and stood. This was ridiculous. Vicar Trent certainly did not think of her in that manner. If he were going to settle on a wife it would not be someone like her, who had a father who required attention. He didn’t have the time for such a responsibility, nor would he wish to have a dairy added to his responsibilities. Besides, she knew vicars made little money, though he had been provided a house, he didn’t earn enough yet to support a wife. Even if he did, he was too busy.
No, he would want, and deserved, someone who could devote all of her time to him, without a family needing attention as well, unless it was for children the two of them brought into the world. Besides, she wasn’t the type any gentleman was really interested in. Well, other than Richards, Draker and Thorn. Of course, those gentlemen had already been rejected by half the women in the village already, including her good friend, Audrey. They each wanted to control the house and land.
But what of Audrey? She certainly would take notice of Vicar Trent and how could the vicar not be attracted to her dear friend? And, why did the thought of those two, together, cause her heart to ache?
/>
She wanted Audrey happy and if it was Vicar Trent who made her so then Grace should be glad for her. But, she was tired of coming in second to Audrey, where gentlemen were concerned. Not that she could blame the gentlemen, of course. Audrey was beautiful and kind.
Tears pricked her eyes and Grace quickly swiped them away. Why so maudlin all of a sudden? She sniffed and returned back into the house. It has simply been a trying day that was all. Vicar Trent had shown her kindness and comfort, and until now she hadn’t realized how much of it had lacked in her life the past year. She needn’t make anything more out of it than what it was. He was being kind because it was his vocation and she would cease thinking about him kissing and holding her and concentrate on her father. It was most important. And, when Vicar Trent did settle on someone, she would be happy for him.
In the meantime, she needed to address her current situation. Of Thorn, Richards and Draker, who would be the best match for her?
Matthew sat atop his horse in the middle the road, unsure of what direction to go, a bit flummoxed from his encounter, and near kiss, with Miss Cooper. He needed to go home and concentrate on the sermon for next Sunday but in truth; his heart was not in it. He wanted to return to the Cooper home and take Grace in his arms and kiss her until she didn’t have a care in the world. He wanted to strip that gown from her body and lay beside her, touch her, kiss her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes and everywhere in between. He wanted to lie between her thighs and share the intimacy that was as old as time.
He adjusted his seat, growing uncomfortable in his clothing. He hadn’t been this aroused in years. Practice and discipline usually kept him from being in such a needful state. When his body longed for the comfort of a woman he had been able to think of other matters until his loins cooled. Such had not been the case since meeting Miss Cooper and he had yet to be in her presence without becoming at least half aroused. This did not bode well for his role as her vicar. He needed to get control of his lust and somehow ignore what he wanted and focus on her, as his parishioner, and nothing else. But how did one do that.
